


Insert generic title here

by tanacles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bathroom Sex, I still do not have the hang of tagging this stuff, Incest, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:24:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanacles/pseuds/tanacles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While you only cry out your pleasure when you shoot your load, he’s a constant stream of groans, the sharp tone of something dark that stirs a fire in your belly that you crave to hear at the worst times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insert generic title here

**Author's Note:**

> Another short one, again. I'm not good at the long story thing.  
> (This is also not really that great, so I apologize.)

Your breathing sounds all too loud in the small, dirty bathroom stall of the mall you’d come to with your brother, and you’d be covering your mouth if your arms weren’t trapped.

Which brings your attention back to the moment, the heavy breathing that matches the beat of your heart as it hits the lobe of your ear. Your body is pressed firmly against the door behind you, and your legs are wrapped tightly around your brother’s waist as he rolls his hips up against you. The sensation of his length as it slides into your body makes you keen and smack your head against the door, and his hand comes up to silence you.

Just in case someone decides to join you in the toilets.

The slap of his skin against yours sounds worryingly loud in the empty room and you swear against his fingers when your phone is jostled from your back pocket and falls heavily against the tiles. Your thought process is fried when he slams home, and you whimper eagerly for more, please, more. You don’t think he hears you, his expression oddly serious in which you can only assume is him trying to keep quiet.

It may not be expected, but he’s always been louder in bed. While you only cry out your pleasure when you shoot your load, he’s a constant stream of groans, the sharp tone of something dark that stirs a fire in your belly that you crave to hear at the worst times.

A bathroom is probably one of those times.

His shades are clipped to the neck of his shirt, so you can see how this is affecting him, the way your muscles caress him fondly, how they clench when you’re close to the edge. You moan breathlessly into his palm at just your thoughts alone, you’re driving yourself crazy, just making your orgasm build quicker, and your body arches deliciously when he slides against your prostate, the stimulation sudden and destructive in all the best ways.

He catches your eye, and you’re struck with the intense gaze, captivated with the burnt orange hue that seems endless in such a small place. You think, in a strange sense, his gaze alone helps you hit your peak, and with a cry that sounds wrenched from the deepest, furthest parts of you, you spill up the front of his shirt, and god you hope he remembers to clean that before he leaves the bathroom.

The time it takes you to cool down, for your muscles to begin their slow ache, is the time it takes for him to reach his high, and the only way you know he’s ejaculated is the way he bites into your shoulder and groans brokenly around your skin.

When he finally places you back down on sore legs, you’re tired and you feel disgusting in every place on your body, but when he stares down at you and gives you a small, genuine smile, it’s worth how nasty you’ll feel sitting in the passenger seat on the way home.

Your ass really doesn’t think it was worth it, though.


End file.
